


Time Off

by Kytheres



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room, Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Cold, F/M, Fluff, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kytheres/pseuds/Kytheres
Summary: After getting a new case, Potty Prof doesn't want Lucy involved, which upsets her and causes her to run out into the rain and get a cold. Well it's a good thing she wasn't on the case in the first place, right? After clearing up some misunderstandings, Lucy accidentally gets someone else sick.





	1. A Small Argument

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how much I'm going to go into the case that Al recieved, but it might come up later. This is my very first piece of work on this website, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading! BTW there is swearing in this!!

Thick columns of dark cloud filled the sky while rain tore down in sheets, soaking the city. From her vantage point in the Deputy-Commissioner-Chan-acclaimed “back office,” which was actually larger than the last tiny office she had been in, she grinned. Oo, it was going to be so much fun to go out and wonder around in the rain! Agh, curse it if she had forgotten the umbrella today!  
She slumped over, giving a hefty sigh.  
The crimson-haired Inspector across from her looked at her from the top of his paper. Taking a sip of tea, he set it down, and said, “Something the matter?”  
Lucy’s pout grew deeper. “Nowt a thing, Prof. I jus’ forgot my umbrella is all.”  
Folding the paper over, he set it on his desk. “Are you done with all the paperwork?”  
“Yes, Prof.”  
“Even the—“  
“Yes, I triple-checked the death certificate, the coroner’s report, and the testimony from the trial.” She held up three fingers, her face planted in the papers of her desk. “Three times.”  
“The death certificate and the coroner’s report are the same thing, Baker.”  
Lucy’s face jerked up, seeing the crimson hair for a split second before the eyes went a little softer… Had… had they been staring at her? That was silly, he was looking at her with a smirk on his face right now. But that odd feeling in her chest. Was it fear or was it something else? Shaking off the desire to hide under her desk, Lucy stood up and walked toward the door. “I guess I should be going—“  
“Without an umbrella? Lucy, you’ll catch a cold—“  
She turned right as Alfendi Layton, with his long crimson hair and long nose, came up behind her to get her her coat.  
“Plus,” he continued, “you wouldn’t want to forget a rain coat, would you?”  
Something came across her cheeks like a spark, igniting into a forest fire. Cheeks burning, she looked down at the see-through rain coat, then back up a the smiling man. “… yes. Yes, t’ank you. Thank you, Prof. Um…”  
“Well thank you for your hard work, Lucy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alfendi smiled at her, then walked back to his desk, picking up his cup and taking a long sip while staring at the paper on his desk.  
Lucy’s knees quivered. Her attempt to tone down her deepening blush was failing miserably. “Are you sure you aren’t going home now, Prof?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Oh. You know. You usually leave before me.”  
Surprise crossed the Inspector’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have to stay late tonight. It’s another case the higher-ups want to be handled quietly.”  
Dropping her bag at the door, she rushed over to his desk, and took a look at the paper. “I can help!”  
“You just said you were going home…”  
“I want to help.”  
“It’s complicated.” He picked up the paper, putting it in a binder, and snapping the rings closed. He took a closer look at it, trying to get Lucy to leave passive aggressively.  
“All of our cases are complicated, Prof.”  
He frowned, giving her one of his looks. “This one is more…”  
“I’ve been with you for a while, and I’ve helped solve loads of cases, so it shouldn’t be as bad as anything else we’ve ever had to deal with.”  
The binder snapped shut, and this time the eyes were burning yellow. “I don’t want you getting wrapped up in this case, alright?! Now get on your way, Baker.”  
Heart beating as fast as a race horse, body tense, her gaze went from Layton’s eyes to the floor. Hating that damned pink rush across her face, she speed-walked to the door, not even bothering to grab the rain coat on the way out. Slamming the door shut, she made her way into the rain.  
Why the ‘ell… did I hafta blush in front o’ ‘him? Teeth gritted, she stomped down the sidewalk. Coming up to her bus stop, she stood in the rain, wanting to run away from it all… even if it be for a little while. Trying to relax herself, she loosened her jaw, but her fists were still scrunched up and starting to go numb. Breathing in and out trying to calm down, she listened to the rain, felt the coldness and the wet on her face and hands… but not before a speeding driver came along and splashed a massive disgusting tsunami of sewage water on her. Screaming all kinds of insults at the driver, she threw her hat at the bus sign.  
In this weather, ‘he driver isn’t even going tah come, is he?! Groaning, she picked up her hat, and walked the remaining distance to her apartment. By the time she got home, she was cold, wet, and wishing she had grabbed that fucking rain jacket. If Potty hadn’t been such a bloody—  
Clenching her teeth again, she entered her apartment, and half-slammed the door closed. She was cold and tired, and wanted to take a hot shower and forget about what happened with the Prof. If Potty didn’t want her involved, then fuck, she wasn’t going to get involved. She took her shoes off and set them next do the door, then took her time peeling her socks off. Taking a look at the clock, she took note of the time, and decided to take a shower even if it was ten-fifty-six at night. Screw him.  
She pulled off her hat and made a promise to wash it, then tugged off her jacket and pants, along with everything else, and let the hot water warm her skin and relax her muscles… oh she could stand in that shower all night… until the neighbor next door had to ruin her fun and turn on the wash, stealing all the hot water and replacing it with the frigid reminder of what happened earlier, out in the rain. Leaping out of the shower and grabbing a towel, she shut off the water, and watched it slowly drain out of the bath…  
Drying her hair, she padded to her room, and picked the loosest fitting close she had—her pyjamas—and crawled into bed… The softness of her pillow… and the mattress… the warmth of her thick blanket… the silent argument slipped out of her mind… and she fell into sleep…


	2. Coming in Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy comes in to work late, and ends up home, sick. Al goes over the case with the Commissioner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah I wasn't expecting the case to take such a large part of this story. I know the only archive warning is "graphic depictions of violence," and I haven't included graphic violence yet, but... it'll come eventually. :( Plus this is supposed to be fluff and that's the total opposite. Anyway!  
> I hope you like it!

The next morning was bright and sunny—not something that London saw all the time—but it was an omen of good tidings. Lucy stretched her arms and climbed out of bed, peeling off her pajamas and looking through her closet. Her eyes swimming, she picked up a shirt and threw it on. Must be I’m just tired because of how late I got home last night. A small headache blossomed at her temples and the brightness of the sun suddenly became unbearable. It was a good thing she had more than one orange hat.   
Maybe ‘tah radio’ll help.   
Flick the switch, she finished getting dressed and ate as the radio ticked off the news and broadcast the early morning traffic. A bunch of commercials for new cars and a bakery flipped through before the radio host cut in during a medicine commercial. “Ladies ‘n gentleman, I regret to cut into that beautiful advertisement about hair loss and hair growth, but I’ve received new information about a certain… investigation the London Police are looking into.” The word police got Lucy up and on her feet, swigging the rest of her drink down her throat and shutting off the radio before looking at the time.   
“Shite I’m already late!” While the police department didn’t officially open until nine in the morning, Alfendi Layton liked, sometimes, to get a head start on his work. That meant being in the building by seven sharp. And now it was nearly eight-forty-five.   
Puddles dotted the street, and this time nobody splashed her, and the bus came on time. Sitting in the back of the almost empty bus, she sighed. Hopefully Prof won’t be too mad at me for coming in late. Not like it hasn’t happened before. Taking the chance, she looked out the window at the bright sun making its appearance against a dark sky and darker silhouettes of buildings. The sun was still waking up. It was bright, but not as bright as it would be later in the day.   
Almost missing her stop, she ran across the street, nearly fainting from another dizzy spell. Pulling the door open and escaping from the sun, she flashed her badge to the desk sergeant and continued on her way to the back. Oh, he was probably stir-crazy already. Should she even have come in today? What with the dizzy spells and all?   
It was probably nothing to worry about. She would be fine. It would be okay.   
She stopped at the door, hearing a voice. When no other voice responded, she quietly opened the door to avoid any disturbance on Al’s end of the telephone.   
When Prof noticed who was entering, his eyes went a little wide and his mouth frowned. Finally, after connecting to the operator, he set the phone down. “I was wondering if you were going to come in today at all.”  
Lucy gave a smile and scrunched up her eyebrows. “Well I can’t miss the most important day of work.”   
“’Most important?”   
Leaning on the door knob, Lucy, slouched over. “Sorry… I mean… Can’t miss work today, eve… Even if I did sleep in… a little…”   
Springing from his chair, Alfendi picked his way over to his assistant, putting the back of his hand against her forehead. “Lucy, I—“  
“Oh, it’s alright, Prof. It shoul’n’t be a problem. Just a few… dizzy spells is all. I’ll get over it by lunch.”   
Al blinked at her, mouth and brows scrunched in concern. “You’re going to… stay?”  
Lucy stood up, taking her hand away from the knob. “What made you—“ she nearly fell over right as the Prof grabbed for her waist to keep her upright—“think I was… leaving?”   
“I’d like to think your dizzy spells would make you leave, but if you left now, you wouldn’t be able to make it home.”   
A new voice decided to join the conversation: “You can drive, can’t you? Why not just take her home?”  
Looking out at the hallway, Lucy and Al saw the light blue jacket and waves of long silky blond hair. Hilda Pertinax. She gave Al the death glare but winked at Lucy. “You didn’t get sick because of the rain last night, did you?” Pushing Alfendi out of the way and repeating the same gesture, just with a less gentle touch, her lips parted in surprise. “You’re burning, Baker!”  
“What?” The voices in the room started to get distant, echo-y…   
“She wasn’t that hot when I checked.”   
It was like listening for sound in the ocean. Struggling to stand up any longer, she fell toward the floor, caught only by Alfendi’s torso. Face already burning, she looked up at the crimson hair covering the man’s face. Keeping a hand on his chest for stability, she rubbed her eyes. “I’m… sorry. I probably shouldn’t even—“  
Al’s voice became clear as crystal. “No.” He huffed, and brushed his hair away. “No, it’s fine.” He gently grasped her hand and led her over to a chair. “I’ll get you something to drink, okay? Does water sound fine?”  
Lucy nodded, trying to decide which of the three Profs was the real one… and why Hilda had two arms and three faces. “Sounds… dead sus… Prof…”  
A tiny smile, barely enough for her eyes to register, flashed across his face.   
The Prof left to go find her water while Pertinax told her to lean back, then went off to get her a cold pack. Pulling her jacket off, her hand let it drop to the floor. Time passed in every slowing increments until after what seemed like days, Prof came back with a bottle of water and a bowl of soup.   
“Considering it’s near eleven, I figured you’d want to take an early lunch, Ms. Baker.” Pulling a table up to her, he sat across, making sure she didn’t spill anything. Silence descended upon the room as she slowly filled her stomach with hot soup, her headache ebbing away into dull pain. Slurping the rest of her soup and swallowing, she set it on the table.   
“What’s the case about?”  
“Case?”  
“The one you got yesterday and didn’t want me to become involved in.”  
“I told you it’s complicated—“  
“The press already know about it.”  
“What?”  
“I was listening tah the radio before I got here. They said somemat about ‘the investigation conducted by London police,’ and that’s when I remembered I had to be in to work.”   
“Of course they’d know about it already. The victim was an important political figure.”   
“Does this mean you’re going to let me on or wot?”  
Prof sighed. “Seeing as you’re sickly, I’m going to hold off for now.” He felt her forehead again. “I’m… I’m sorry if I scared you… Or made you upset.”  
Feeling the pink rush, she waved her hands in front of her. “Oh, nowt to be worried about, Prof. It’s all in the past!”   
Placing an elbow on the table and putting his chin on it, he gave her a long look, eyes looking tired, as if he’d spent the day dealing with an irate child who was now sleeping rather than the last hour with Lucy.   
“Are you sure, Ms. Baker?”  
“Yes!” Realizing that the voice had come from behind her, she looked at Hilda, who was not at all enjoying the fact that Alfendi was still there. Giving Pertinax an evil smile, he stood up and retreated to his desk, holding up the binder he had yesterday.   
Groaning, Hilda handed Lucy a warm towel and refilled her water bottle. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left if you need to pee or anything.”   
“I know where the bathroom is, Hilda, I’ve been here for a year.”   
“Oh, that’s right. Over a year.”  
Prof chimed in: “Three weeks over a year.”   
“Shut it, Professor.”  
“Get out, Nobel Peace Prize.”   
Glaring at the Prof, then sighing, she said bye to Lucy, then walked out the door. Turning back at the last second, Pertinax said, “Don’t let Al take advantage of you, Lucy.”   
Prof rolled his eyes as Lucy smiled and said, “Oh, he never has, and he probably never will.”   
They smiled and Hilda closed the door. Lucy looked back at the Prof, half expecting a smile on his face, but the golden-yellow eyes stared at a small scratch on the table. A little concerned at his silence, Lucy whispered, “Prof?”  
Glancing up, he caught her eyes looking at him, and shrunk back a little.   
“Are you alright, Prof?”  
“Yes, Lucy, I’m fine. I…” His face shifted back to that face that gave Lucy an uncomfortable feeling. “I’m just thinking about things.” After a few seconds, he stood up and picked up his jacket. “We need to get you home.”  
“What?”  
“We can’t keep you here like this, all sickly and what not.”  
“You can drive?”  
A sneer caught his lip. “Of course I can drive. Now let’s go.” He grabbed her by the arm, and walked toward the door, almost dragging her. Oh, it’s that one.  
“I want to stay here and help—“ Now they were out the door, in the hallway with the brick walls and shiny floors--  
“You can help by leaving.”  
That caught her by surprise. “Wot?”  
“I won’t have to worry about you if you’re home in bed and—“ they turned down a corner--  
“I can’t take sick leave, Prof!” Now next to the bathrooms, where the Prof stopped abruptly, a frown deepening on his face.   
“Why not?”  
“Plus I’ve helped you just fine in th’ past, so I don’t see why—“  
“Why can’t you take sick leave?”  
“Because I want to stay here and help!”  
Groaning, Prof continued to drag her to the outside world while Lucy resisted, trying to justify why she should stay and help.   
“If you’re fighting back so easily, maybe you aren’t sick after all,” Prof said once they got outside. Lucy’s huffing and puffing made it hard to reply. When Lucy grabbed his arm, he turned back to her, seeing her cross-eyed and ready to fall over. “All right, you are going home—“  
“No, I’m fine—“  
“You are not. You were about ready to pass out in there and you’re ready to pass out now.” Picking their way around the building, they found Prof’s car. Making sure Lucy was comfortable, he plopped into the driver’s seat, started the car, and drove off. “Where do you live?”  
Lucy’s eyes flickered, risking the idea of closing entirely and falling asleep, only driven away by bumps and screeches. “T’other side… of town…”  
“So I’m going the right way.”  
Lucy nodded, eyes closed, half agreeing, half nodding off. The traffic was as good as it was going to get for that time of day. It took about twenty minutes to get from the department to her building, and keeping the dizzy DC Baker upright was proving a bit more of a challenge. When they got to the appropriate floor, Lucy leaned against the wall while Prof opened the door.   
Stumbling inside, she made her way to the couch. Placid Prof stared after her, dashing forward when she was going to fall. Once she was properly settled into the couch, Prof hesitated. “Should I make you some tea, Lucy?”  
Baker smiled. “That’d be grand of you.”  
Covering his face with his hair, he made his way into the other room. Hearing the clanking and the pouring of water into a kettle made her zone out, drift off for a little, before hearing a sudden CRASH, and an enraged Prof trying not to swear.   
“Prof?”  
Silence from the other room.   
“Prof, did you break something?”  
Hesitation. “I’m sorry Lucy.”  
“What did you break?”  
“The one that says ‘From Mom,’ with the ducks.”   
“Oh. Ta. That’s fine. She’ll probably just buy me another one.”  
“Are you sure? It’s—I’m sorry, Lucy.” He came into the room, handing her another cup, a white one with little ravens on it. “I… I’m a bit shaken up, to be honest.”  
Lucy took a sip—chamomile—and gave a relieved sigh. “I can help… you, you know.”   
His eyes were downcast, but his mouth smiled. “Oh, no. No, I can’t do that to you.”  
“Alfendi.”  
His eyes widened slightly, and he looked up at Lucy, who was taking a small sip of her tea. “Yes, Lucy?”  
She looked up at him and winked. “It’s my job, Prof.” A sudden bout of coughing, and Al grabbed the tea to keep from spilling and set it on the table. Putting a hand up to her mouth, she tried to stop. The coughs were hoarse and loud, making her body shake. When they did stop, she picked up the cup, her hands quivering slightly, and took several long sips. “Ah, what time is it?”  
“Almost one.”  
“You should be getting back in to work, should you, Prof?”  
“I need to clean up that mess in the kitchen, don’t I?”  
Lucy gave a small smile, and leaned back.   
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to your room, Lucy?”  
“Oh, the couch is just as comfortable as t’bed, Prof, I’ll be fine.” She shifted. “Although being under a sheet with everything is a bit hot.”   
Al stood up. “I’ll clean the kitchen, then, and be off.”  
Lucy nodded her thanks, stood up, padded to her bedroom, changed, and fell onto the bed. Alfendi finished up, bid her a good night, and softly closed the door.   
***  
Getting back to the department was easier this time, seeing as there was hardly as much traffic. Upon opening the door to the mystery room, the Commissioner was there, playing with the reconstruction device. Turning to see Alfendi Layton at the door, he smiled and continued. Stepping in and closing the door, he sat down in Lucy’s chair, waiting in the dark for the Commissioner to say something.   
When he finally did, it was this: “I wonder what she sees in you.”  
“Sir?”  
“Lucy Baker. I wonder what she sees in you.”  
“You assigned her to me, sir—“  
“That may be the case, but that isn’t answering my question.”   
“We aren’t going out. We’re just—“  
“Friends? I am well aware of that, Alfendi.”  
Potty Prof slammed his feet down on Lucy’s desk, folding his arms. “She’s scared of me.”   
“At first she was, yes.”  
“She might still be.” He hesitated. “She ran out when I told her I didn’t want her involved in the Phthalu case.”   
The Commissioner was silent. “She had reason to.”  
“What? You think I should let her see—“  
“She’s your partner for cripes’ sakes. She’s a woman, she’s seen all your cases so far. Let her do her job. Let her help.”   
“It’s suicide.”   
“It’s called helping, Alfendi. Maybe you’ve heard of that?”  
“You didn’t call Father, did you?”  
The Commissioner laughed. “I was half tempted to, but if I did, you might actually kill me.”   
“I could never—“  
“You’ve threated enough people.”  
“Those people deserve it. They’ve killed.”  
“And you think I haven’t?”  
Potty Prof slipped enough that Placid Prof took his place. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”  
“Let her help, Alfendi.”  
Picking his legs off her desk, he set them on the floor and stood up, groping his way to the light switch. “I don’t think she’ll like what she sees, Commissioner.”  
“Political scandals, murder, mass murder, suicides. It can’t be as bad as ‘The Walking Corpse,’ or that one with the mafia, can it, Alfendi?”  
Hair covering his eyes, it took a minute for him to respond. “It can always be worse, Barton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not doing too great at making Potty Prof himself. I think I'm making him more like Placid. Hope you guys are liking it so far anyway!


	3. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why there is the "graphic depictions of violence" tag.

There was a demon in the house. It had massacred his staff, stringing them up like pigs and gutting them, leaving puddles of blood and visceral fluids in their wake. He had first discovered his butler sitting in his office with his throat slashed and the word “Avenge the Dead,” written in blood. Then, running throughout his own home, screaming his head off, he found several maids in the kitchen, bedrooms, and lobby, the gardener half-buried in the yard, and his wife in a bathtub filled with her own blood. Lord only knows what this monster would have done to a child, not that they had or could make one.   
A floorboard creaked out in the hall, causing the man to jump.   
Now the demon was coming after him… He hid in the huge library, being careful not to make any noise. The house’s alarm had been cut, along with all the power, so calling the police would be impossible. He was going to die.   
The cause of the creaking continued down the hall, until it disappeared entirely. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, he pushed himself up from underneath his desk, and nearly fainted. A man in a pure-black suit, covering all signs of skin, stood in front of him. A white mask made to look like a dog’s skull was strapped to the front of his face.   
“Mr. Hellmuth,” said the demon, pulling out a large black hunting knife and wiping it on the chair next to him. A lamp that wasn’t connected to the power supply started to flicker, and in one swift movement the demon turned, grabbing a gun out of thin air, and shot it. Turning back to the quivering man, he said again, “Mr. Hellmuth.”  
The shaking man stood behind his chair, as if somehow it would protect him. “What do you want? Money? Glory? Power?”  
The demon laughed. “You think I killed your wife and your staff because I wanted power, glory, or wealth?” Sheathing his gun, he put the knife next to the skull-mask. “I’m going to have fun skinning you and feeding you to the dogs, Mr. Hellmuth.”


	4. Victims and Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going over evidence, victims, and possible suspects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be more fluff, but there will be murder and mayhem and shit before that happens.  
> I am very sorry.   
> Aaagh it's so tense and awkward and it's mostly dialogue...

After convincing Prof to come pick her up from the apartment and talk about the case, Lucy sat on the sofa, sipping her tea and reading the case spread all over the table.   
“Do you have the room set up in the Reconstruction Machine?”  
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” He scoffed. “Of course I do.”  
“Can I see it?”  
Potty Prof gestured toward the door. “Go right ahead.”   
Standing up and taking small steps toward the reconstruction machine, she took a seat, looking at the scene in front of her. Prof pulled up a chair beside her, and leaned forward. “Let’s look at the body, shall we?”  
Lucy nodded. “Let’s get stuck in, Prof!”  
Zooming in, Lucy noted, “It’s… a bit hard to tell the cause of death, Prof. That’s… a lot of blood.”  
“Yes, the body has been torn apart.”  
“By what, I imagine?”  
A third voice chimed in, “Dogs. If you can believe it.”   
Turning about, Lucy saw the short figure of Commissioner Barton.   
“Commissioner! Wot are you doing here?”  
“Helping with the investigation, of course, Detective Constable Baker.”  
Prof turned back to the Reconstruction Machine. “You know I don’t work well with others, Commissioner.”   
“You’re working mightily fine with Miss Baker here.”  
“That’s different—“  
The Commissioner raised a hand. “I understand entirely. I had—“  
“Yes, we’ve all heard stories of Chelmey, Commissioner.” Prof zoomed in closer on the dead man’s jacket. “No need to tell it again.” Another person entered the door. Alfendi groaned. “We’re busy! If you could just—“   
Sniffer Hague entered the room without knocking, much to Prof’s annoyance, and said, “Commissioner, they need you. Now.”   
“Ah. I can’t run away from the press any longer. I’ll leave you two to it, then!”   
When the two interlopers were gone, Prof turned his attention back to the Machine. “What can you tell me about the body, Lucy?”   
“Any identifying marks have been cut off.”  
“Except the head.”  
“Which the lab is examining now.”   
“Why do you think the perpetrator would do that?”  
“Don’t we have any suspects?”  
“The power was cut, so any kind of surveillance was lost.”   
“What about before?”  
Placid put a hand to his face. “Power. Cut. Before. Suspect. Entered. Building.”  
“Ah.”  
“Is your brain fried because you got sick? Usually you aren’t this stupid.”  
“Thanks, Prof.”  
“That wasn’t a compliment.”  
“I know.” Lucy looked back at the body. “The killer skinned the body. That suggests…?”  
“The killer is good with a knife, or they’re a hunter.” Prof frowned. “I should be asking you the questions.”   
“Then ask away.”   
“What caused the bite marks?”  
“Bite marks?”  
“On the man’s body.”  
“Uh…” Zooming out, she circled the room. “Dogs.”  
“Why do you say that?”  
“The kennels are open.”  
“Then what happened to the dogs? Where did they go?”   
“They’re bodies aren’t in the room, so I’m guessing they escaped.”   
“How?”   
“Why is that important?”   
Prof groaned. “Do you want a pack of dogs who have eaten human flesh wondering around the city?”   
“What are they going to do, contract rabies and eat us?”  
“Okay, okay.” Prof pointed back to the room. “Let’s focus, shall we?”  
Looking around the cement room, the only thing Lucy could really figure were clues was the body, the puddle of blood, and the kennels. Noting this to Prof, he zoomed out completely.   
“Did you not notice the other rooms?”  
“What else could there be?”  
“More bodies.”  
“That just proves that the killer is ruthless. Why do we need to look at the other victims?”   
“Who was the person the killer was after? Who died first?”  
Lucy hesitated. “I… don’t know.”  
“Let’s look at the other victims, then.”  
“Why is this important?”  
“I’m taking you back home.”  
“What? No. I want to help.”  
Standing up, he said, “You’d help better if you were at silent. Or better yet, home.” His message got across: I could work if you weren’t here.  
“Alright. Alright, I’ll shut up.” When Potty Prof hesitated, he looked up at him. “Are you alright, Prof?”   
Placid answered the question. “What? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He sat back down and slid to another room.  
Where did Potty Prof go? Looking worriedly between the 3-D model of the house and Prof, she sighed. ‘Guess I better help t’Prof, then. “Where do we start?”  
“The linen closet.”  
“Alright.”  
***  
Going through each individual staff member and cause of death took two hours longer than Lucy had wanted. It only further cemented the fact that the thing that had killed the master of the house and his wife was some kind of demon.   
The only thing she didn’t understand was why the butler had the words “Avenge the Dead” on his chest. The only reason he could be in the owner’s study seemed to be to draw attention to the words, and possibly to put the man in a certain state of mind.   
The killer left no evidence of himself behind. Other than the mass of dead bodies.   
Fiddling with the Machine, Lucy flipped through the rooms again, double checking desks, tables, and windows. Deciding to actually check the bathroom in one room, she flipped the view around, and noticed something on the mirror.   
A picture on the mirror, made with dark red lipstick. Zooming in closer, Lucy cocked her head. “Prof!”   
Alfendi’s voice filtered in from the other room. “What is it, Lucy?”   
“Take a look at this.”   
Taking his time, Al padded into the room. “What—“ his face turned pale when he saw the image on the mirror—“is… it…”   
Lucy frowned. “Prof, are you alright?”   
Al backed out of the room followed hesitantly by Baker. Watching him wear down the carpet made her tired, and she sneezed. Picking up a cup, she took a long sip, and set the cup back down.   
This tea… tastes weird.   
“I need to call someone.” Not even bothering to sit down, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. When the person picked up, he said simply, “I need to talk to him.”  
Lucy couldn’t hear the person on the other side of the line, but from the way Prof’s teeth were clenching, they wouldn’t be on for long.   
“I don’t think you understood, Rosa. I need to talk to him.”   
When ‘Rosa’ finally got whoever Prof was looking for, he sighed into the phone. “Triton, have you talked to Crow at all?”   
The person on the other end said something, and Prof said simply, “I need to get ahold of him…. Yes. Yes. Hellmuth. Alright.” Listening to more conversation from the other end of the line, Lucy tried to keep her balance on the couch—which was not very hard—and fell onto the blanket next to her.   
Feeling something fall onto the couch by her, she looked over at Prof, who took a sip of his tea. Looking a little closer at the cup, her stomach twisted into a knot. “Uh, Prof, are you sure you’re going to want to finish that?”   
“Of course I’m going to finish it.” He looked over at Lucy’s empty cup. “Do you want more, or are you going to sleep?”   
“I… uh… Can I get some more?”   
Alfendi smiled. “Sure.” Setting down the paper he was looking at, he took Lucy’s cup along with his own, and opened the door, starting down the hall.   
Lucy stood up too fast, and crashed back onto the couch. “Prof!”   
Al turned back and looked into the room. “Go to sleep, Lucy! I don’t want you breaking something, too.” He took a large sip of tea, downing the whole thing, and set it on the table. “I’ll be right back, Lucy.” He felt her forehead. “We might have to get you to a doctor if you get any worse.”   
A frown sprouted on her face, which surprised him.   
“Do you not want to go to the doctor?”   
Lucy forced out a laugh. “Oh. No. Something tells me I won’t be the one going to the doctor soon.” She gave a large, forced smile, and watched a slightly confused Prof leave, falling back onto the blanket, screaming internally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying the story so far! Thank you!


	5. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prof gets sick. Lucy investigates the case further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long. I'll try to upload on a regular basis. It gets a little slow in this chapter.   
> I hope it's not too cramped like Chapter 4. ':|

The next day, after being dropped off at work by a friend, Lucy made her way up the stairs to the Mystery Room, feeling better than she had the last couple of days. Her throat was still throbbing from the bout of coughing last night, and her friend was concerned about Lucy coming into work. Baker had said she was fine and getting better but the friend (also an officer on the force) had said that Lucy pushed herself too hard.   
Waving away the topic, she said goodbye, and got out of the car. Now that she was climbing up the stairs, feeling more freedom than she could have taking the elevator, she heard somebody on the floor above her coughing. Hurrying up the stairs, she looked around and saw the source of the cough: a man clearing his throat, interviewing somebody.   
Lucy sighed, looking at the carpet.   
Making her way through the maze of hallways, she got to the Room, and opened the door. Prof wasn’t there. Maybe he was off doing something. Making copies, maybe? Pulling off her jacket, she made her way over to her desk and glanced at the case notes she’d made.   
Eyes wondering over to the coffee table, she remembered yesterday, and covered her face. If only she hadn’t been so stupid… picked up the wrong cup. Ooh, Potty Prof was going to get her.   
After ten minutes of staring absent-mindedly at case notes, she looked at the clock. Getting worried, she started to pace back and forth, brow furrowed. Tensing and relaxing her hands, she tried to calm down. It was okay. Prof wasn’t sick. He hardly ever got sick. Possibly because he stayed indoors so much.   
Oh, maybe she should call him, just to make sure? He made the Reconstruction Device, surely he should know how to use a phone. Had he made it? Shrugging her shoulders, she picked up her cell phone. Wait. The only number she had for him was here. This office. She didn’t have a home number or a cell number. How was she going to get a hold of him? What about that person he had called yesterday? Rosa? She hadn’t gotten the number because Prof had dialed so fast. “Er…”   
Maybe the Commissioner would know. He had to have a personal number just in case. Would he let her have his number, just like that? She was worried, and he hadn’t come in today. Should she just wait? It was only ten—now thirteen—minutes after. Traffic was awful this time of day. Should she really be worrying this much?   
Maybe Hilda or Florence knew his number?   
Huffing, Lucy poked her head out of the office. Carefully, she shut the door, and padded softly toward the stairs. Forensics were downstairs, right? Florence worked in Forensics. Or so she thought. Yes. She had to. She wore a lab coat. Prof also wore a lab coat, but he was an Inspector. Lucy groaned. Maybe the sickness was messing up her head more than she thought.   
“Baker!”   
Lucy stopped in her tracks. Turning, she saw the Deputy Commissioner.   
“Baker, what are you doing?”   
“Erm…”  
“You should be working on that case, eh? Unless you’re taking a break, but I can’t imagine why you would be, considering it’s only eight-fifteen.” The Deputy Commissioner crossed his arms. “What are you doing?”   
Lucy perked up a little, trying as hard as she could to look normal. “I’m getting some tea for t’Prof, Deputy Commissioner Chan.”   
The man frowned. “There’s a machine—“   
“Lucy!” Turning again, Lucy saw the Prof standing about twenty paces away, looking slightly winded. “Oh. Hello, Deputy Commissioner Chan.”  
Chan nodded. “Alfendi.”   
Prof turned his attention back to his assistant, searching for words. “Eh. I can—“   
Lucy stepped toward Prof, smiling at the Deputy Commissioner. “I need to get Prof his tea, and we’ll get right back to the case.”   
Chan’s frown grew deeper. “All right. Just so long as you’re doing your job.”  
“Always, Deputy Commissioner.”   
Lucy skipped away, trying hard not to fall over. Getting over to Prof, she stopped, and dragged him by the lapel into a side room. “Where were you, Prof?”  
Prof rubbed his cheek. “I could ask you the same question.”  
“Looking for you!” Lucy half-yelled.  
Prof groaned. “You look rather pale, Lucy.”   
The Detective Constable stood stiff. “So do you.”   
Frowning and suppressing a noise, Prof grabbed her shoulder. “Let’s head back to the Mystery Room, shall we?” Lucy nodded.   
***  
When the duo got back, Prof burst into a coughing fit, one hand on the wall keeping him upright. When he finished, Lucy got him seated at his desk. “Lemme get you a lozenge or sommat, alright, Prof? I’ll be back in a flash.”   
“Lucy…” Prof reached out for something, then went cross-eyed, head falling on his desk. “Lucy, I feel sick.”  
Baker’s stomach knotted up again, and she froze. “I… I, uh…. Think I know why.”  
The man sat up, trying to look like a respectable human being, hair covering his face. “I know why-- you accidently drank my tea.” Prof coughed into his elbow. “I just wasn’t expecting it to take this soon.”   
Lucy grabbed a box of tissues and set them on his desk. “Sorry for getting you sick, but I don’t think you should be here.”   
Potty Prof glared up at her. “You come in sick, subsequently get me sick, and suddenly you’re worried about the whole department?”   
Lucy raised her hands in defense. “Hey, I’m still sick, too, you know.”   
Prof sniffed. “Being sick is hell for me.”  
Lucy cocked her head. “Is that why you don’t go out much?”  
Prof frowned at her and said, “It will forever remain a mystery, won’t it?”  
Lucy gave an awkward smile, and looked toward the door. “The only one I’m worried about is Florence.”   
“She’ll be fine.”  
“Eh?”  
“She’s got a drip, she’ll be fine.” Prof grabbed another tissue, and blew into it.   
“She’s got—“  
“Good gracious, I think the thing that made you stupid is making me stupid, too.”   
Lucy had enough self-control not to hit her mentor. “Do you want me to take you home, Prof?”   
“What good would that do? I’m—achoo! -- here now.”   
Lucy sighed, and walked over to her desk. “I can work while you stay home and get better.”   
“What if you need something? Who would help you?”  
Lucy sat down at her desk, putting a thumb and forefinger on her chin. “You would. You know the number here.”   
“Not if I become dyslexic because of this, Baker.”  
Lucy stood up, padded over to Prof’s desk, and slammed her hands down. “Then give me your phone number, Prof!”  
Alfendi looked up at her, looked back down at his desk, and grabbed another tissue. Lifting it up to his face, his nose scrunched up, and he sneezed into it. Leaning back into his chair, he stared up at the ceiling. “Your aptitude for subtlety is enviable, Lucy.”   
Face scrunching, she said, “I’m surprised you still have the mood for sarcasm, Prof.” Turning around, she walked back to her desk. “Alright, I’m taking you— “   
Turning around, she saw his eyes closed, body relaxed, looking calmer than he had in a while. Rolling his chair over to the sofa, she tried pulling him off.   
When he didn’t shift, she whispered into his ear, “Prof, are you going to sleep on your chair the whole time?”   
Prof opened one eye and said, half-asleep, “You made the couch smell weird.” He closed his eye and smiled when she started rolling him back to his desk, muttering random expletives at him.   
Huffing, she crashed down on her chair. Pulling her legs onto her desk, she went through the case file one more time. “Geoffrey Hellmuth.” Flipping through the pages, she looked at the photographs from each crime scene. Inevitably she came to the butler. “Avenge the dead. What could that mean?” Running through the list of servants, she looked at the number of victims, and then reread the number of servants. “There are twelve victims dead—thirteen servants. Twelve victims. Eleven servants.”   
Putting her feet down on the floor, she counted off the victims on her fingers. “Hellmuth. Hellmuth’s wife. The butler. The gardener. Three maids in the kitchen. A maid in the bedroom.” She stopped. “So far that’s… eight victims.” She looked through the other photographs. “Nine is in the attic. Ten is in the hen house. Eleven is in… the wine cellar. And Twelve… is in…” Once she got to the twelfth victim, she flipped the file closed. Creepier even, then being skinned alive and fed to dogs, the twelfth victim… Oh dear, she didn’t even want to think about it.   
“Two people are the lord and lady of the house. But there are eleven servants. Twelve people died. So there’s one servant that’s unaccounted for.”   
The thought made her pause: was it this servant who was responsible for the whole thing? Did he or she kill all these people, then somehow manage to escape without getting caught? What was his motivation? ‘Avenge the dead’? Had his master killed someone he’d loved?   
Questions filled her head. With no-one to bounce ideas off, she wrote them down in her notebook, and sat up. “All right. Let’s go through the directory to see where this servant could be.” Though the idea of this person possibly killing twelve people terrified her, she flipped through the house’s documents. After about three hours of house-keeping and book-keeping records, she stumbled across the housekeeping registry.   
“Butler… Alfred Hitchwick. Wife and children… Flora Reinfaust…. Casey…. Cassidy… Robert… Jessica the cook… Here we go! Idinae Killthom, the stable boy.” Lucy frowned. “Odd name.” Flipping the page, Lucy looked at the man’s information. “He looks nice enough. He doesn’t live too far out in the country…. Mother’s name is listed as ‘Don T’.” Lucy picked up the phone and started dialing. “Hope they’re home…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I tried so hard on the names. I couldn't think of anything better than "Idinae Killthom" and "Don T. Killthom," so... (My attempts at pun names are not as good as Level-5's) "Alfred Hitchwick" a pretty cool name. (Do you know what or who I'm making reference to?)


End file.
